Cast yourself (you are the spell)

Chapter 35

With all my love,

Niklaus Mikaelson

Hope sucks in a frozen breath, the letter too cold in her still, unmoving hands. She remembers Rose saying that she had sent nearly two pages of parchment paper in her letter, yet her father's words barely fill half a page.

He hadn't even asked if she was okay. In fact, he hadn't asked how her classes were going, or anything about her. It was as if he didn't want her to reply, Hope thinks.

And...marriage.

She had thought she would have more time to make a decision. Clearly not. Her family had carried on the Mikaelson bloodline, had made it proud.

It's her time now to do the same as her parents had done before her. What does it matter, that her father is not in love with her mother? What does it matter, that her mother is not in love with her father, but rather her uncle Elijah?

At least most pureblood contracts are left open, Hope thinks. It doesn't necessarily mean that she's tied down to a single person, at least not in the public's eye. At least-

No.

Who is Hope Mikaelson kidding?

She absolutely abhors the idea of binding herself to a marriage contract. Even worse, she hates the thought of bearing a child to a man she will never hold any affection for.

She doesn't want this at all. In fact, her lungs squeeze in panic at the mere thought of her future disappearing in front of her eyes. No. Her future is not disappearing. No, it isn't at all.

Maybe if she can just find a way to obliviate all her memories of Josie-oh, Merlin, Josie-and her time in the summer, then she'll be fine. Maybe if she can just pretend that she had never went with her father to the Ministry, had never wandered outside to muggle London, had never accidentally spent months of her time roaming the streets and meeting its people, had never toured the artwork-oh, Merlin, the artwork-

Ha! Her father would think her demented, if he knew her true thoughts, if he could read her mind in this very instant. He would think her unfitting of her pureblood status, he would think her therefore unworthy of having any magic at all.

Maybe I am.

Hope's eyes shoot out across the expanse of the letter, trying to find anything she might have missed. At last, the rest of the paper is blank, barring a crimson smear in the corner. Hope sighs. Her father had not even bothered to clean the blood off his hands.

She does not have much time to be angry or disappointed though, due to the realization that her friends are all still waiting for her to relay the letter's contents.

She closes her eyes for one more second of peace, pleading to every deity she knows, wishing she could just lie back down and remain ageless and insignificant in her sleep, before she opens them and hardens her gaze. Her nerves resolve themselves to steel as she sets down the letter.

"Just the usual, you know," Hope lies, her voice too soft. She does not meet Rose's searching eyes. "Good luck with school, good job with the game."

Not a second of silence passes.

"Cut the bull." Penelope crosses her arms, her words not very nice in Hope's opinion. "You look like someone just Avada Kedavra'd your puppy."

"I don't have a puppy," Hope snaps, completely ready to displace her irritation with her parents to someone else. Penelope grabs the letter from her lap before she can defend herself.

She nearly falls out of bed trying to get it back but Penelope holds it just out of reach. She brings a hand to her head as it begins to throb viciously. Why is it still hurting?